


The Red Vision

by Macdragon



Category: The Bone Season
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:32:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdragon/pseuds/Macdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A message from the aether…Seven faces. Seven streets. Seven orders of clairvoyance. The message read loud and clear—he had to find Jaxon Hall. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Red Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amo_amare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amo_amare/gifts).



 

The sky was grey, the air cold. It was the last day of exams, and as Nicklas Nygard walked out of Scion University Stockholm and turned left to walk along the Riddafjarden, he knew that he was supposed to feel as if a weight had been lifted. His future was certain—the exams had been easy, and he would be sure to place highly for a doctoral position with SciSors Stockholm. But Nick had been on guard for far too long to ever feel truly carefree. The layers of deceit he had built up over his four years as a university student would hardly be shed now. The lies would only have to be strengthened.

Nick shivered against the chill wind from the river and tugged his thin coat closer around his shoulders. Spotting a coffee cart, he stopped to buy a cup. The vendor had an aura—he was an augur. But Nick ignored that, as he ignored so many things.

He handed over a few coins, including a generous tip, and gave the vendor a charming smile as he accepted the cup.

Suddenly, red.

Poppies. He could smell the sweet blossoms and feel the warm sun on his back. The flowers swayed in the breeze. There was a voice behind him, a young girl’s voice. So familiar, the girl’s voice was on the tip of his tongue as he turned around and…

The vision dissipated as abruptly as it had begun. The coffee cup was at his feet, most of the hot liquid on his shoes, and some of it scalding his bare hands.

“Sir, are you all right?” A woman behind him exclaimed.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Nick slid his blistered hand into his coat pocket, schooling his expression into a pleasant smile before striding away. His heart was pounding.

Why now? When everything had been going so well. Nick felt ill as he rode the train back to his tiny flat.

There was a thick envelope waiting for him in his mailbox, covered in official Scion stamps. Nick set it on the kitchen table, where it lay watching him suspiciously as he washed and bandaged his hand.

Finally, he opened it.

“Nicklas Nygard—

We are pleased to invite you to join SciSors Stockholm’s research Institute on the recommendation of your professor, Doctor Maria Johansson.

The project we seek your assistance on is entitled ‘Unnaturalness in Ireland: What Scion Stockholm Can Learn…’ ”

 

***

 

“Clearly, unnaturalness cannot be allowed to run rampant. The state that Ireland has reached must be avoided at all costs in London, and as my research has demonstrated, we can make significant progress by watching the development of children. Moving forward, if we can discover a way to stop the growth of unnaturalness in its tracks, we can hope to one day live in a completely Natural society. Thank you.”

Nick smiled at the crowd before him, knowing that he didn’t even need to use a mental “push” to make them believe his words. He bowed his head humbly and stepped down from the podium as applause filled the room. Nick was here in London as a representative of SciSors Stockholm, but if the hints the principal investigator on his project had been dropping were true, he would be staying here. Scion London wanted to invite more academic exchange with other citadels, and as one of the youngest researchers in either city and to all appearances an extremely loyal citizen of Scion, Nick was a prime candidate.

“You’ll have an office in the Wellcome Building by the end of the conference,” one of his colleagues murmured, leaning over to whisper as one of the lead scientists delivered closing remarks.

It turned out to be true. Nick was offered a position with SciSors London, and he readily accepted. The same evening, he rang up his old professor.

“But why would you want to go to SciLo?” Dr. Johansson asked. He could hear the disdain dripping from her voice. London was softer, less strict on unnaturals, and therefore inferior to Stockholm.

“I just have a good feeling about it. Besides, with my research on Ireland, it makes sense.”

Dr. Johansson’s sigh carried over the distant telephone wires. “Ever since you went on that research trip to Dublin, you haven’t been able to think of anything else. Maybe a change is for the best.”

He was left with the distinct knowledge that she was disappointed in him, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t plan on returning to Stockholm. There was far too much work to be done here.

It wasn’t just Ireland. Shortly after arriving in London, Nick had another vision. This time, there was more than one image. Eight, to be precise. Seven faces, faces that seemed familiar even though he had never met them. Just like the girl—-Paige. And then, a place, itself composed of seven streets. And just like with the poppy field, he was left with the irresistible compulsion to explore the vision until he uncovered the mystery behind it. The answer lay in London.

 

***

 

Becoming a part of SciSors London was easy. Nick was a practiced hand at blending in by now. No one suspected his true motivations for being in London. No one suspected him of broadcasting images to the squirrels in Russell Square during his lunch breaks. And, he hoped, no one suspected him of watching his graduate assistant out of the corner of his eye, admiring the blonde man’s strong jawline as he peered into a microscope.

“Look at this, Dr. Nygard.” Now the assistant, Clemence, beckoned him over to the scope, moving over. Nick peered into the lens, all too aware of Clemence standing very close beside him, and the fact that Clemence’s face had just now been resting on this same surface.

“Hmm.” Nick let out an appropriately interested noise and forced himself to focus on the slide of voyant brain cells. “We’ll have to compare more to be assured that they are different from amaurotic cells. Can you prepare more samples when I’m at lunch?” He straightened up, trying not to blush and cursing his light complexion when he found himself eye-to-eye with Clemence. This close, he could easily see the boy’s pale violet aura, too. If that was the case, surely Clemence could see his aura as well…but neither of them had mentioned it. Well, they hadn’t mentioned much of anything; despite his skilled charisma around other scientists, he had only afforded his assistant the briefest professional interaction.

“Of course,” Clemence said.

Nick turned away, gathering up his notes. “I’m going down the street to the library again.”

“You and your books.” Clemence smiled. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re just looking at those forbidden materials for fun.”

Nick laughed, but the comment made him uneasy. Clemence was joking, but he had hit the nail right on the head. He’d been in the library several times already looking at information about voyants, and it was all for personal use. Fortunately, the librarian never questioned a SciSors employee.

He walked out of the Wellcome Building, heading down past the hospital to the special library where SciSors kept a repository of forbidden works. It was a fairly unassuming place, a red brick building with black shutters covering all the windows, but the colors as well as the well maintained state made it more than clear that it belonged to Scion.

At the door, he showed his ID to the NVD officer and continued on to the main reading room. It didn’t look any different from the main university library; if you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t realize it contained such incendiary works. All of the tables were empty at the moment.

As soon as the librarian saw him, she jumped to attention, pulling a box down from the shelf behind the main desk. “Here are your requested items, Doctor Nygard.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her and, looking her in the eye, imagined an image of a cup of tea gone cold somewhere.

Her face was blank for a moment and then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, I forgot something. I’ll be right back.” And she hurried off, presumably to the lounge, where she would find that she did not actually forget her tea at all.

In the moments she was gone, Nick slipped a pamphlet into the inner pocket of his jacket. Then he took a seat at one of the tables, pretending to read something else for a while. When he brought the box back to the librarian, she suspected nothing; they had chatted before and she knew he came here on lunch breaks, so it wasn’t odd that he had spent less than an hour reading.

That night, in the safety of his studio flat, Nick read the pamphlet again. On the Merits of Unnaturalness by Jaxon Hall had to be the single most revolutionary, despised work in the past decade, and Nick was thrilled to have a copy in his hands. He flipped to the section on jumpers, re-reading the passage again and again. Oracle. Nick had never had a word for himself before. “Able to affect the aether outside of their own physical limits…Oracles do so through images, inserting pictures into a subject’s mind. The ability can be used for various purposes…on rarer occasions, an Oracle has an image impressed upon his own consciousness, a message from the aether.”

Nick hid the pamphlet under his mattress. A message from the aether…Seven faces. Seven streets. Seven orders of clairvoyance. The message read loud and clear—he had to find Jaxon Hall.

 

***

 

Nick took to the streets. Gathering bits and pieces, rumors and hearsay. Contrary to the efforts of Scions, there were voyants everywhere, and most were willing to talk to someone with a red aura like his. Whether they spoke the truth was another matter. More than once, he had been sent in the wrong direction out of spite, or lied to just to get a spare coin.

On free days he walked around districts that most of his co-workers wouldn’t even dream of going to. It was a rainy morning when he almost passed by a bibliomancer huddled in a doorway, trying to keep dry.

“I’ll read your fortune, boy.” The man dragged himself to his feet. His lips were bluish-purple from astor, and his hands were shaking so badly he could barely keep hold of the book in his hands. “Ask me a question and I’ll turn to the right page.”

“How much?”

Hope flickered in the man’s bloodshot eyes. “Just a ha’penny, sir.”

“I’ll triple that if you can tell me where to find Jaxon Hall.”

The bibliomancer’s fake smile disappeared, his face twisting with hatred. “What’s Jaxon Hall to you?”

“I need to tell him something.”

“Well, maybe he’ll pay attention to you, with your pretty aura.” The man spat onto the rainy cobblestones. “Show me the coins first.”

Nick sighed; reached into his pocket for the money. He was growing desperate.

The man snatched the coins up. “There’s a woman who sells paintings at Portobello on Sundays. She’ll help you.”

There was no way of knowing if it was more false information or if this was a true lead. “Thank you.” Nick turned to go.

“Wait.” The bibliomancer caught his sleeve, cracking the book open with his other hand. He glanced down. “The book tells you this. There were sins whose fascination was more in the memory of doing them, strange triumphs that gratified the pride more than the passions, and gave to the intellect a quickened sense of joy. But this was not one of them. It was a thing to be driven from the mind, to be drugged with poppies, to be strangled lest it might strangle one itself.” He shook his head, blinking, and clutched the book to his chest before stepping back into the shelter of the doorway.

A chill went down his spine, and it wasn’t just the cool rain. Nick hurried away.

That Sunday, he woke early and went to Portobello Market. It wasn’t the first place he would have expected to find someone who knew to Jaxon Hall. Unlike the seedier markets of London, Portobello served an amaurotic crowd with mostly kitschy luxury goods.

When he arrived, he asked a a young lady if she knew where he could find paintings, and she was more than happy to deliver him straight to a stall manned by a curly-haired, respectable looking woman. Respectable, other than the fact that her aura was bright green and flickering with the signs of recent spirit contact.

He had seen her before, in the vision. Nick knew that he had found the right person.

She smiled up at him. “How can I help you, sir? I have a few new paintings today. All genuine, from centuries before. I’ve put so much work into restoring them, it would do my heart could to see a nice young gentleman such as yourself carry one home…” She was a good actress, but not good enough to mask the fact that she was looking at his aura, not his face. Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out On The Merits of Unnaturalness, showing it to her quickly.

“Are you familiar with this?”

Her eyes widened, and she was obviously struggling to keep up the friendly pretense. “Perhaps.”

“Then maybe you can tell me how I can speak to Jaxon Hall.”

Now her face hardened. “Are you NVD? Or from Hector’s gang? Either way, I’m not talking to you.”She crossed her arms.

“Neither.” Nick leaned in, meeting her eyes. Anyone who happened to look over might think that they were flirting. “My name is Nicklas Nygard. I don’t know who Hector is, and I’m not from NVD. I work for SciLo, but everything I do there is a lie.  I have a message for Jaxon. You can deliver it yourself, if you wish. It’s about the number seven.”

She drummed her fingers on one of the paintings, chewing on her lower lip as she considered. “Fine. He’ll want to see your aura, anyway. I’ll take you to talk to him, but only you. And we’ll go right after the market, and I won’t let you out of my sight until then.”

“Fair enough.”

He waited while she returned to selling paintings. By the end of the day, many were gone. She was a fine saleswoman, even if Nick had begun to suspect that the paintings weren’t genuine. When she was finished, she cleaned up and beckoned for him to follow her without a word.

It was a long, silent walk. Nick didn’t even know the woman’s name; she could be taking him anywhere. But for some reason, he felt like he could trust her, even if she couldn’t say the same for him.

They ended up at an unmarked pub. The woman ordered three glasses of mecks and they sat down. It wasn’t long before the door of the pub opened again and a tall, slender man stepped inside.

Jaxon Hall was all sharp angles, right down to a smile that could slice you open. He glided across the room and sank into a chair. “Well, Eliza. I see you’ve brought me a Jumper. How fascinating.” Jaxon’s gaze settled on Nick. His eyes were blue, but so pale as to be almost colorless.

In spite of himself, Nick was unnerved. With Jaxon here, the atmosphere of the room had changed. The spirits stood at attention, leaving him with the distinct impression that they had an audience.

“He says his name is Nicklas Nygard. I’m not sure what type of Jumper he is, exactly.”

“Hmm.” Jaxon cocked his head. “Well, he’s not a dreamwalker, is he? He must be an Oracle. Maybe he could demonstrate his talents.”

Nick took a deep breath. Reaching out to Jaxon’s mind was intimidating, to say the least. He looked into those pale eyes and pictured the seven streets he had seen in the vision.

“Seven Dials?” Jaxon blinked hard, as if that would send the image scurrying away. “It seems we do have ourselves an Oracle, Eliza. And one who knows about things he’s never seen.”

“I saw it in a vision. Seven streets, coming together…it’s the Seven Dials? And seven different faces. And the I found your pamphlet about the seven orders.”

“How very interesting.” Jaxon folded his hands in front of him, a faint smile on his face. “It sounds like a very…useful…vision. It would be a shame to let it go to waste, don’t you think? Just like Eliza and I have been wasting our talents selling paintings. This could be the sign we’ve been waiting for. Lovely. But something tells me that you may be out of your depth, Nicklas. You’re new to London, aren’t you?”

Nick nodded. “I came from Stockholm. You should know…I work for SciLo.”

Jaxon’s smile widened, showing his teeth. “Ah. A voyant in the middle of SciSors. You must feel so out of place, so alone. What a pity. You’d like to meet more of your kind, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded again, drawn in by Jaxon’s words.

“But if you want to do that, you’ll need a protector. Can you think of anyone, Eliza?”

She took a sip of mecks. “Are you sure you want to take this on, Jaxon? Maybe we should leave SciSors alone.”

“No, please—you can trust me,” Nick cut in quickly. He hated the idea of coming this close to what he had seen in his vision, only to be turned away.

“Well, if you say so. Nicklas Nygard, I’d like to offer you a job. Of course, you can think about it. If you’d like to accept…meet me at the place you saw in your vision a week from today.”

Jaxon stood up, sweeping his long black coat around him. “Come on, Eliza. Let’s leave Nicklas to consider his options, shall we?” He pulled her up, looping their arms together. Jaxon winked at Nick, and then they strode away.

Nick didn’t need any time to think. He already knew what he would decide, had known it ever since he first had the vision.

 

***

 

Focusing on work for the next few days was impossible. Nick was too distracted to even pay much attention to his assistant, so he shouldn’t have been so surprised when Clemence cornered him one night as they were leaving and asked if he was feeling all right.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” Nick was buttoning up his coat, and he looked down, away from Clemence’s pretty brown eyes. “Maybe a little homesick.”

“That’s not fine.” Clemence touched his arm lightly, and suddenly Nick was anything but distracted. He was certain that Clemence could hear his heartbeat kick up a few notches. “We should go out tonight. There’s a good floxy place a few blocks away.”

“Oh?” Dammit, he was blushing again.

“Maybe you’d like to go with me? You need some stress relief.”

“All right,” Nick answered without thinking. He wasn’t supposed to get close to anyone at SciSors. And it wouldn’t be long before Clemence noticed that Nick held a less than innocent interest in him. But it was just one night.

They walked out into the darkness together. After what seemed like several days, the rain had stopped and it was a clear night, with the stars all out. “I’ve never tried floxy,” Nick admitted.

Clemence laughed. “You really need to live more! They don’t have it in Stockholm, do they? Well, you’re in for a treat.”

They ended up at a colorful floxy bar, all lit up. The place was crowded considering that it was a weeknight, and they had to fight through the crowd for a place at the bar. They took a seat together on the gaudy gold stools, and Nick let Clemence order for both of them.

The first sip of the fizzing blue liquid made Nick’s head spin. Clemence giggled. “You should see the look on your face.”

They talked and drank, the words coming easier with each follow sip. Nick was surprised to find his glass empty very soon. Or maybe it had been longer than he thought. Time seemed a little wobbly.

Clemence leaned in to whisper in his ear. Nick nearly stopped breathing. “Let’s go get some air.”

Back through the crowd, and then they were outside. Clemence walked around to the back of the building, and Nick followed, unsteady on his feet. He leaned against the bricks and gulped in air, real oxygen. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Your first glass is always a little heady.” Clemence leaned casually beside him, giving him a crooked grin. “Nick…now we’re alone…there’s something I want to tell you.”

“What?” Nick straightened up, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water.

“Here’s the thing, Nick. I…I’m like you.”

“Like me?” Nick shook his head. “A voyant? I know.”

“Not just that. I mean…” Clemence tilted his face upwards, and Nick already felt like he was falling, so it was all too easy to bend down. Their lips mashed together. It wasn’t how Nick had envisioned his first kiss, head full of floxy and clumsy with the newness of it all, but it was still…perfect.

Clemence was laughing as he pulled back. “I read my cards the other day, Nick, and I asked about you. They said that our fates would be entwined.”

“Really?” This was so much to take in.

“Oh, yes. Listen, Nick, there’s some people I’d like you to meet. You shouldn’t be all alone like this. I want to help you.” Clemence took his hand, curling their fingers together.

“Okay.” Nick nodded happily. Intelligent response was impossible. Clemence gave him a little tug back towards the street.

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

***

 

That Sunday, Nick went to Seven Dials. I-4 wasn’t a place any self-respecting SciSors employee would have wandered into, except perhaps for a cheap thrill at one of the floxy bars or for a dalliance with a desperate soothsayer. Nick knew that he was about to give up any trace of respectableness, but after years of struggling to maintain the facade of good citizenry all by himself, he was more than ready to do so.

Seven streets, all coming together like spokes on a wheel, and Jaxon Hall was standing at the center. The pale man’s eyes seemed to glitter in the dusky light as Nick walked up to him. “Have you made your choice, Oracle?”

“I’d like to accept your offer of employment.”

“Good.” Jaxon did not seem the least bit surprised. “Right this way, then.”  
They walked down the street, past buildings that Nick knew would become familiar in the coming weeks. Anyone they passed ducked their heads or got out of the way completely. This was Jaxon Hall’s territory, and everyone seemed to know it.

They stopped in front of an elegant Georgian style flat. Jaxon opened the door with an old skeleton key. “This is my home, and where we do most of our work. There’s one of artists over there--you saw his paintings the other day.”

 

Jaxon waved at a spirit hovering in the corner. He was the only one in view at the moment, but Nick’s skin crawled with the sense of others lurking just beyond the veil of the aether, ready to be called. This house was haunted to the brim.

Jaxon led him into an office, directing him to a stately mahogany desk. The office was filled with shelves, some covered with books, others empty and likely waiting to be filled with the same.  A wispy, transparent cat spirit slunk out from behind one of the shelves and circled around Jaxon’s legs, tail swishing. Nick tried not to stare.

Jaxon took a seat on the plush leather chair behind the desk and pushed a sheet of paper and across to Nick, along with quill and ink. Jaxon’s own name was already written on the first line, the letters looped together in an ornate script. “Your contract.” He smiled. “It’s simple. How, when, and where you use your abilities belongs to me. In return, I’ll show you how to use them, and do whatever I can to see that you come to no outside harm. In your free time, you can do what you want...but Nick, you must understand, after you sign this contract your first loyalty will be to me, and to any others in my employ. This isn’t just a job, it’s a family. And outside of the pack, you’re a lone wolf. Do you understand?”

By way of answer, Nick picked up the quill and scrawled his name on the contract.

Jaxon chuckled.“Excellent.” Opening the top door of his desk, he took out a small, jewelled pocket knife. “Just one more thing.”

Noticing the look on Nick’s face, he smirked. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to stab you. I only need this…”

He leaned forward, and Nick couldn’t hold back a yelp of surprise as Jaxon sliced through a few strands of hair with the knife. Jaxon dropped the hair on top the contract, then opened his palm and pricked his skin open, letting a few drops of blood fall on top.

The air crackled with tension. Jaxon pulled a book of matches out of his waistcoat pocket and lit one, touching into the paper. It started to smolder, and then burn, turning to ash too quickly for it to be entirely natural. A wind from nowhere blew across the room, and the ashes scattered. Nick felt something on the back of his neck and jerked around, catching only a glimpse of spirits out of the corner of his eye...whispers of “heard and witnessed”...and then they disappeared again.

“Done and dusted. Literally.” Jaxon swept the remaining ashes into the bin. “Eliza and I thought we could call this...us...the Seven Seals. And you’ll be my Red Vision.”

There was something like affection in his voice, but Nick suspected that he would speak the same way about a new book for his empty shelves. The spirits were gone, but he still felt like something was watching him. Then the cat spirit jumped up into his lap, transparent paws kneading. “It’s a good name,” Nick acquiesced.

 

“Ah, she likes you.” Jaxon reached into his desk once more, this time placing a glass decanter and two cups on the desk, pouring one for each of them. “To the Seven Seals.”

 

***

 

Nick began his training at once. Every evening, he met with Jaxon and Eliza, who both knew far more about being an Oracle than he did. For the first time, he was learning to hone his abilities, and every day he grew more outraged at Scion for forcing voyants to hide their talents.

“So what do you do at SciSors, anyway?” Eliza asked one night when they were in the sitting room of Jaxon’s flat. Nick’s head ached from flinging too many images at her, but she seemed unruffled. He mistook her question as an opportunity for a break, until she added, “...You can show me.”

Nick held back a sigh and followed her instructions, showing her the microscopes, the slides, the endless paperwork, the sterile lab that was so different from the London street outside the window, Clemence…

She raised an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

“My lab assistant.” Nick looked down, at the ornate oriental rug at his feet.

“Oh, Nick.” He could hear her trying to hold back laughter. “He’s the most vivid thing you’ve shown me. Just your assistant, really?”

“Okay, we’ve been out a few times.” Nick glanced back up at her. “I’ve been too busy here to spend much more time with him. But I’m supposed to meet some friends of him this Friday.”

“Where?”

“Someplace called the called Edward’s Arms.”

Her smile faded. “Edward’s Arms? In D-6? That’s Hector’s territory. Be careful, Nick. Actually, maybe you should tell him you can’t go.”

Nick shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

She sighed. “Just don’t take it too seriously, all right? No commitments. It’s not as hard as you think it is now.”

“Of course that’s fine for you. You already have Jaxon.”

Now she burst out laughing again. “If you think Jaxon’s going to settle down with me, you couldn’t be more wrong. He’s possessive, yes, but not like that...it’s much more fun for both of us, anyway.” She patted his shoulder, making him feel like a small child, and not for the first time that week. “So have a fling if you want to, but don’t be naive, dear.”  
“I’m not being naive.” Nick rubbed his temples. “Let’s just get back to practicing.”

That Friday night, he ignored Eliza’s advice and headed to the Edward’s Arms. He waited outside for Clemence, shuffling back and forth to keep warm. He was relieved when the blonde man arrived. Clemence put an arm around his shoulders and kissed him lightly, which certainly helped chase the cold away.

“Let’s not go inside, yet,” Clemence whispered. “I just want to be alone with you.”

Nick readily allowed himself to be whisked away. They ducked down the alleyway behind the pub. The place didn’t look special to Nick; just another street, with dinghy cobblestones and surrounded on either side by rows of brick flats.

It was true, Nick hadn’t listened to Eliza. But he had resolved himself to at least ask Clemence what they were doing here; what this relationship was supposed to be, exactly. Then he would know what to do. “Clemence, there’s something I…”

His words were abruptly cut off as Clemence kissed him roughly, pushing him against the wall.

If it wasn’t for his training with Jaxon and Eliza, Nick wouldn’t have seen the flash of silver headed straight for his neck. He reached up, catching Clemence’s wrist hard, making him drop the…it wasn’t a knife, it was a needle. Nick shoved Clemence back and picked it up.

“Flux?” Nick’s stomach twisted. The drug likely came right from their lab.

Clemence’s face had transformed, twisting from beautiful to sinister. “We knew you wouldn’t come easy. The plan was to get you into Hector’s territory and…convince you to join us. Of course, we can do it the hard way instead.” He clenched his fists and lunged.

Jaxon had only taught him one defense so far, but it was a good one. Nick pictured a blinding light and threw it at Clemence. He cried out and covered his eyes, and Nick ran.

“Bastard oracle! Get back here!” Clemence howled in pain, but Nick wasn’t sure how long it would be before the image faded. Then, he heard more footsteps behind him. Clemence wasn’t alone, and his friends must have heard his cries. “Catch him!”

Nick wasn’t familiar with these streets. Hector’s boys were. It was a lost cause. He glanced back and saw a large man, dressed all in black, just a few feet away. Clemence was half-running, half-stumbling along a bit behind him.

Then, both men were screaming as a huge spool of spirits poured into the alleyway, smashing them against the wall. The spirits rose and hovered, then dove again. The stranger was slumped on the ground, his head cracked open, unmoving. Clemence was already trying to get back on his feet.

“Don’t move.” Jaxon Hall appeared at the other end of the street. With a slight motion of his hand, one of the spirits separated from the group, its ghostly form wrapping around Clemence and pinning his limbs down.

Jaxon strode calmly down the alleyway, twirling his cane. Clemence was almost sobbing with fear, twisting to and fro as he tried to escape the spirit’s grasp. “Please—I was just doing what Hector told me! I didn’t mean any harm!”

“What, did my Vision fight back? That’s why you did more harm than good?” Jaxon stopped inches away from Clemence, smiling down at him.  He glanced at Nick, who remained motionless, and then he crouched down in front of Clemence, his smile dangerously sweet. “Now you see he’s already taken. And he’s got the one up on you, because he told us where you would be tonight.”

He jumped up again, and for a moment, Nick thought that was the only warning Clemence would receive. Then, Jaxon drew his cane back and brought it down hard on Clemence’s shoulder. The blow was followed by several kicks as Clemence’s pleas went from begging to incoherent groaning.

Nick looked away until the beating finally stopped. Jaxon crouched down once more, drawing a knife out of his pocket. Grabbing Clemence’s chin, he forced the boy to look at him. Jaxon laid the shining blade against Clemence’s cheek. “This is what Hector gets for employing useless soothsayers. You’re worth less than the dust beneath my Vision’s feet. And if you so much as look at him again, I’ll kill you.” He drew the blade down, one clean cut across the face, drawing blood. “Take that back to your mime-lord as a reminder. Now get out of my sight.” He stepped back, and the spirit did so as well, releasing Clemence. Without a second glance, Clemence leaped up and ran away.

Nick took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw up. “Thank you.”

Jaxon sneered, wiping the blade off with a handkerchief. “I didn’t do that for you, you sentimental fool. I did it for the Seven Seals. Red Vision, more like the Ginger Idiot. No commitment, Nick. You. belong. to. me. Do you understand?” He slid the knife back into his pocket and met Nick’s eyes.

“Yes,” Nick said. “I understand that more clearly than ever.”

One of the spirits alighted beside him, patting his shoulder reassuringly. Jaxon chuckled, some of the anger draining from his expression. Clasping Nick’s other shoulder, he pulled him back down the street. “Good. Because if you’re ready, I have a job for you. There’s going to be some visitors from Eastern Europe here in a few days, and rumor has it there is a powerful Fury among them. I thought you could speak to them, maybe convince her to join us. You’re a charming lad, Nick. Learn to use it, not waste it on the undeserving.”

“I can do that,” Nick promised.

“Lovely. Her name is Danica Panic.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I finished the book, I had to see if there were any yuletide requests for The Bone Season. I had a great time writing this and taking a stab at some of the many unanswered questions in the book. 
> 
> The quote the bibliomancer reads is from “The Picture of Dorian Gray.”
> 
> The Wellcome Building, where Nick's lab is located, is a real building in London. IRL it is home to the Wellcome Trust and Gallery. Henry Wellcome owned a pharmaceutical company in the 1890s. http://www.medicallondon.org/images/12wellcomecollection.jpg
> 
> Dr. William’s Library, a theological library in London, is the model for the Scion Forbidden Library.  
> http://charliemiddleton.files.wordpress.com/2013/07/imag0059.jpg  
> Interior: http://www.gowlland.net/Dr_Williams_3.jpg


End file.
